


The Story of the Frost King

by Sweetestlittledarling



Series: Markiplier/Jackseptic Eye Ego Christmas Series [9]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, Darkiplier - Freeform, Ego Christmas, Gen, Markiplier - Freeform, Markiplier egos - Freeform, Other, wilford warfstache - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 07:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12978984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetestlittledarling/pseuds/Sweetestlittledarling
Summary: You get a slightly unwelcomed house guest but somehow magic will always find a way…For the Ego Christmas challenge thing on Tumblr. Prompt #10: Frost





	The Story of the Frost King

****

   The Barrel pulls to a stop outside your apartment building. You take a moment and look out the window. You look up at your apartment window and sigh. You really aren’t looking forward to going back to your quiet apartment all alone, especially this late at night. “Thanks for the ride Mark,” you say grabbing your stuff. “I’ll start editing that stuff tomorrow.”

              “You okay?” Mark asks suddenly. “You seem kind of tired today.”

              “I’m fine,” you lie. “Just been not sleeping well lately.”

              “Nightmares again?”

              “Is it that easy to tell?”

              Mark smiles. “You can always stay in the van if you need to,” he offers, motioning to the back, “free of all judgment and charge. Although I do ask that you make me pancakes in the morning.”

              You chuckle as you shake your head. “Thanks, Mark, but a wise man once told me that I can’t hide for the rest of my life in the van.”

              “Sounds like a smart guy,” Mark says, grinning brightly.

              “Yeah, even if he does have floofy hair,” you chuckle as you roll your eyes. You open the door and step out, shutting the door behind you. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

              “Call if you need anything,” Mark says as he puts the van into gear. “I mean it.”

              “I will. Good night.”

              “Night.”

              And with that Mark drives away leaving you standing outside your apartment building. You sigh once again as you turn towards the door, once again dreading the silence that awaits you above. If your building allowed pets, you would probably get a cat or something. Slowly you climb the steps to your apartment, pulling out your keys to unlock the door as you go. You use the keys on the door and swings open to darkness beyond. You step inside and sigh for a final time, placing your things on the ground. You close the door behind you and lock it.

              That is when you hear it. The sound of something crashing in the kitchen.

              Your entire body freezes. Without making a sound you carefully reach out and grab the baseball bat you keep by the doorway. After all that has happened to you in the past you tend to keep these things handy now. Clutching the bat in your hands you carefully creep down the hallway towards the kitchen and living room. You are careful to keep silent although you feel your heart pounding in your chest. You get the bat into a ready position as you get closer to the archway. Finally, you get there, and you pause, gripping the bat tighter. There is the sound of movement on the other side. Slowly, quietly, you peer around the corner and find…

              “Warfstache?”

              Warfstache looks up like a startled animal, spoon tucked in his mouth and a tub of ice cream in his hand. He quickly pulls the spoon from his mouth and shuts the door, hiding the incriminating evidence behind his back. “Good, your home! Some dastardly no good has run off with all the ice cream! I think we should investigate starting with that no good Slendy man.”

              You lower your bat as well as lower a small glare at the pink man. “What are you doing here?” you ask coming into the kitchen, setting the baseball bat on the counter.

              “Can’t a friend visit an old friend without some reason?”

              “Not when it’s you, and not when you are eating my ice cream,” you say holding out your hand, “so hand it over pink man.”

              Warfstache looks only a little guilty as he hands over the spoon and the ice cream. Holding the tub now you realize that it’s empty and you sigh. You put the spoon in the sink and the empty tub into the garbage. “Alright once again,” you say turning back to the home invader, “why are you here and not hanging around with Dark.”

              “I can’t, Dark is mad at me.”

              “Mad at you? That’s surprising. Why?”

              Warfstache puffs out his chest in a sort of defiant way as he brings his chin up. “He said I’m not taking my job seriously! That my love of Christmas is getting in the way of the bigger picture! I show up to one business meeting wearing my fancy antlers and he gets all huffily! He demanded I take them off, and I told him ‘I shan’t, it’s Christmas’! Then he kicked me out…” At the end of his little speech, you see Warfstache deflate a little as a little sadness sets in.

              At first, you are surprised that Dark thought that Warfstache could take anything seriously and then you are surprised at the fact that Egos have business meetings. You start to try to figure out what for but quickly remind yourself that they are Egos and therefore don’t really make much sense, to begin with. “So Dark kicked you out but why did you come here of all places? Couldn’t you go stay with the other Egos?”

              Warfstache started to fiddle with his fingers in a guilty way. “They also said my over-enthusiasm for the holiday was grating on their nerves. None of them would let me stay with them. None of them would be a friend in my time of need.” Then he starts to flash you those puppy dog eyes with that little pout, and you know exactly what he is trying to do.

              You contemplate saying no, arguing that you are too tired to deal with his craziness. But you know that it won’t work, and you sigh. “Fine,” you say, “you can stay for tonight.”

              “Yea, sleepover!” Warstache cries in happiness, as his face instantly brightens into a brilliant smile. And before you know it, he snaps his fingers and you are both dressed in pajamas that have little pink mustaches on them. “Now we can watch movies, eat popcorn, and talk about all the guys- “

              “Dear lord what have I done,” you groan.

…

              A brief time later you have the couch all set up with sheets and a blanket. “There,” you say, fluffing the pillow before setting it down. “You are all set, Wilfred.”

              Warfstache dives onto the couch like a seal into the water and magically is under the covers clutching his Tiny Box Tim stuffy. He looks kind of cute like that. You would hardly call him a mad murderous man if you didn’t know better.

              “Alright, now I am going to bed,” you say as you turn away from him, “goodnight Warf.”

              “WAIT!”

              You nearly jump out of your skin as he yells at the top of his lungs. “What?” you say turning quickly on you heal.

              Warfstache is pouting again. “I need a bedtime story.”

              You blink in confusion. “A what?”

              “Dark always tells me a bedtime story before I go to sleep.”

              “Seriously, Dark tells bedtime stories?”

              “Yep! He told me the one about the Markiplier that fell down the stairs and broke his neck, and he told me about the Markiplier who got tangled up in a wood chipper, and then he told me- “

              “Ugh, okay, okay!” You hold up your hands as you try to eliminate the horrible images from your mind. You should have guessed that would be the kind of fairy tale Dark would be interested in. You try to think. You don’t have any bedtime story kind of books and while you know some fairy tales you don’t think that Warf would find them very interesting. Then you suddenly have an idea. “Alright, I’ll tell you one story and then you go to bed, right?”

              Warfstache nods vigorously and makes himself comfortable. You take your seat in a nearby chair and begin your story:

              “Once upon a time there were three handsome princes: The red prince, the pink prince, and the blue prince. These handsome princes were fierce fighters and they were very loyal to one another. But then one day one of the princes, the red prince, called a dark curse down on the land. You see he was betrayed when he found the woman he loved, the lady in red, in the arms of one of his fellow princes, the pink prince. In his anger and hurt, he called down a horrible curse! The curse caused the lady in red and her brother, the blue prince, to be joined in one body, and for their hearts to be iced over so they could no longer feel love. They became the King of the Frost and ruled over the country with an endless winter.

              The pink prince, meanwhile, was cursed as well. He was driven to madness so much so that he could no longer even remember who he was and became a jester. Luckily the blue prince’s friend, the wizard of the mirror, had escaped their confines of their mirror prison and, even though he had once nearly killed them- “You hear a faint ‘it was an accident’ from Warfstache. “- managed to help convince the pink prince that they had to stop the king of the frost once and for all.”

              “How were they going to do that?”

              “Shush I am getting there! So, the pink prince and the wizard traveled through the frozen lands, through harrowing storms and icy mountains until they finally arrived at the frost kings castle. The frost king was not happy at their arrival. He threw all sorts of dark magic at them, threatening them with all sorts of evil things. But the pink prince and the wizard stood firm. They knew that somewhere inside the frost prince their friends still lived, that their hearts still had love in them. So, the pink prince and the wizard called upon all their magical abilities to melt the heart of the frost king- “

              “What kind of magical spell did they use?”

              “What?”

              “You said they used their magical abilities to melt the heart of the frost king, but what kind of magic did they use?”

              You pause as you realize that this is the part of the story you haven’t really thought about yet. Because it hasn’t happened, you remind yourself. Because no matter how much time you spend pouring through books and other magical items you still haven’t figured out a way to save the frost king. But considering Warfstache’s childlike face, you think of the one thing that you wish could really save a frozen heart. “They used the magic of love,” you say in a gentle tone, “they called upon their love of their friends and their memories of them, and with that love, they melted the heart of the frost king. And with his heart melted the frost king returned to be the lady in red and the prince in blue, both very happy to be themselves again. And they all lived happily ever after.”

              A soft snore comes from Warfstache and you look over only to find him fast asleep, clutching Tiny Box Tim.

              “If only it were that easy,” you say as you carefully pull the blanket up over the man’s shoulders. “Not all curses can be fixed by love, and not all hearts can be so easily melted. Sometimes I worry that there is no answer to the curse we are under…”

              Warfstache smiles a little in his sleep and it makes you smile as well.

              “Good night pink prince,” you say as you walk from the room, hoping that you both will rest easy tonight.

…

              Dark waited until you were gone from the room to step out of the shadows. He had come to collect Warfstache, not ready to end the annoying one’s banishment but when he found out that he had flown to you, with your good influence, it was best to collect his tool before it became corrupted. But when he arrived he found you telling Warfstache his bedtime story and something with him told him to stay and listen. Part of him wished he hadn’t, told himself that this was all garbage, spew from the those who lived their lives free of the darkness and sadness. But there was a small part, a very small part of him, that felt something else. It was a faint pang, so faint one could barely find it under all that anger and rage (and just the fact of it being there was enough to make part of Dark rage even more). But it was there.

              And that feeling was love.


End file.
